


feel your ghost when I'm alone

by Cerberusia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Incest, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 11:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4744433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's your fault," Regulus tells him hotly, whirling round from snapping <i>Alohomora!</i> over and over at the door.</p>
<p>"But darling," Sirius drawls, propped insouciantly against a wall, hands in his pockets, "how else am I supposed to get you alone?" He bats his eyelashes for good measure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	feel your ghost when I'm alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [makiyakinabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makiyakinabe/gifts).



"It's your fault," Regulus tells him hotly, whirling round from snapping _Alohomora!_ over and over at the door.

"But darling," Sirius drawls, propped insouciantly against a wall, hands in his pockets, "how else am I supposed to get you alone?" He bats his eyelashes for good measure.

Red blooms in Regulus' face, then recedes blotchily. "That's not funny," he hisses.

"No?" Sirius keeps his eyes fixed on Regulus', and smiles as the blush reappears. "No, I suppose it's not funny," he says, slowly looking Regulus up and down and raising an eyebrow as if to imply that he likes what he sees. He sees Regulus bite at his lip in frustration.

"You're disgusting," Regulus says at last, in what he probably thinks is a low and venomous tone. He's been hanging around Snape too much, is what Sirius thinks. He plays his trump card early with aplomb:

"Disgusting, me? I'm not the one who used to creep into his brother's bed when he wasn't there to have a wank."

Regulus manages to turn both red and white at the same time, two livid spots of colour in his chalky face as if he were ill.

"That's not true," he says viciously, "it - it's not true!"

"Don't worry," says Sirius in his best smarmy faux-reassuring voice, "I'm sure you were only there for the posters of girls in skimpy bikinis." He can see the wheels turn in Regulus' head as he mentally kicks himself for not thinking of that excuse. Poor Reggie, never quite as quick on the uptake as his big brother.

"Piss off," snarls Regulus, taking refuge in vulgarity.

Sirius spreads his arms expansively - or, expansively as is possible in the cleaning closet they've accidentally locked themselves inside with a Bat-Bogey Hex meeting whatever Regulus cast and going terribly awry. And it _is_ an accident, no matter what Regulus might be thinking: Sirius has always been one to take advantage of opportunity.

"Bit difficult, mate, in the circumstances," he says. "Tell you what: you flash us your tits and we'll call it quits, eh?"

Regulus' face screws up like he's just tasted something sour. As well it should: it was a nasty thing to do to Emily Abbotson, and although she hadn't been able to name all the group of Slytherin boys who'd taunted her, Sirius knows perfectly well that Regulus will have been among them. Wherever there's a group of Slytherin boys causing trouble, there's Reggie, following the mob. He's so yellow-bellied he ought to have been put in Hufflepuff.

"Or how about," says Sirius, seeing Regulus groping for a reply, "I give you a taste of what you really want?" He runs a hand down his chest, like the strippers do, then undulates his hips and grabs his crotch. He suspects it doesn't look quite right in school robes, but that doesn't seem to matter to Regulus, who stares at him gormlessly.

"I hear tell there's one of the Hufflepuff third year girls who thinks you're dreamy," Sirius says conversationally, rubbing at his cock through his robes. "But we both know you're not really into girls, don't we?"

Regulus still can't get a word out; he keeps looking between Sirius' face and his crotch. Well, that's Reggie all over, isn't it? Sirius hikes up his robes and pulls down his underwear, puts on his best sultry face and stares Regulus right in the eye as he starts wanking his half-hard cock. He's always been an exhibitionist and Reggie, sneaky little pervert that he is, is a natural voyeur.

He doesn't get Regulus to give up and stick his hand down his own pants, more's the pity: Regulus just watches his hand moving up and down and chews his lip bloody listening to Sirius' exaggerated sighs and gasps. His untouched erection makes an obvious tent in his robes, and he keeps smoothing his hands down the front of his robes, like he wants to go at himself but daren't. Honestly, at this point it's not like he's got much dignity left to lose.

Finally Sirius comes with a genuine groan, semen dribbling over his knuckles. He rests his head against the wall with his eyes closed, pants through his pink wet mouth - he knows he looks good. When he opens his eyes again, Regulus doesn't look away in time.

Well, there's nothing more for him to do here. Time to let Reggie scurry off to wank himself raw in private, since he's so determined - at least he's proved that he has some vestigial backbone, of course at the one time when Sirius would rather he didn't. What else are brothers for?

So up goes his underwear and down goes the hem of his robes, and he saunters to the door projecting a well-fucked mien as best he knows how. Regulus scuttles out of the way, eyes huge and dark. Not too much backbone, then.

He mutters _Evanesco_ and flicks his wand in the Flitwick-approved manner, and the door swings open at his touch. Regulus makes a whistling sound of outrage behind him. Silly Reggie, trying to unlock a door that was stuck with ectoplasm all along.

Sirius turns to beam at his younger brother, the smile that once made a second-year Ravenclaw walk into a portrait frame - then grasps his right hand and smears his come on it.

"You'll be wanting that so you don't chafe," he tells Regulus in his most facetious tones, and sweeps out.

Behind him, he hears the closet door slam shut and a thud, as if someone had thrown themself against the door because they were too frantic to perform a locking charm. Sirius smiles, vanishes the traces from his hand, and walks on whistling.


End file.
